A Rather Short Love Story in Two Parts
by senorjustino
Summary: Love's labor's won or love's labor's lost?
1. Part I

See the mountains kiss high heaven,

**See the mountains kiss high heaven,**

**And the waves clasp one another;**

**No sister-flower would be forgiven**

**If it disdained its brother;**

**And the sunlight clasps the earth,**

**And the moonbeams kiss the sea:**

**What is all this sweet work worth**

**If thou kiss not me?**

Percy Shelley "Love's Philosophy"

Since Ryan was now living in Los Angeles, his father and unofficial step-mother thought it only natural that he would visit them as much as possible. They did not hesitate to extend that invitation to him, and even though he had been in his new apartment for only a month, Ryan felt compelled to take a break from settling in and go visit Frank and Julie.

He had thought often of Newport since he had left there, nearly five years ago. The town, which had not exactly welcomed him so kindly at first, had given him so many good times and memories; of course there were ghosts, and as he knocked on his father's door, Ryan felt those ghosts hovering over his shoulder.

"Ryan" It was Julie that answered. She had never married Ryan's father, but they had been together for so long it was really almost as if they were married. The woman hugged him tightly and took his bag from him. "Your father is so excited you came."

"Where is he?"

"Out with Tommy." Tommy was his half-brother, and was much younger than himself. "Those two are always off getting into trouble." Julie sounded pleased though, and Ryan was again amazed how life gave surprises to us. Julie and he had once been bitter rivals, but now there was a mutual love for each other that Ryan could not have imagined 6, 7, years ago.

"Yeah it's in the Atwood genes I think." They sat down on Julie's sofa and looked at each other blankly for a moment before Julie offered him a drink. "Just some water."

"We don't keep much alcohol in the house since your father doesn't drink and honestly, I hardly have anything either." She handed him the water and sat down again. "But I can pick some stuff up for you if you like."

"It's no matter." He thanked her and asked how she had been.

"You know me Ryan—have to be constantly busy." And she was busy too—with community college and her full time job with a local PR firm. "I don't know how I get anything done around the house."

"Everything looks great." Julie beamed; she always liked being complimented on her domestic abilities. It hadn't always been so, but the last few years had certainly mellowed her out a little.

"But how about you? How's the new place?"

"Good—small but nice." He shrugged his shoulders; I don't need much."

"No— that's certainly true." They talked and he told her about his expectations of living in LA and his excitement and nervousness about graduate school at USC.

"It's going to be rough."

"But you'll be able to handle it—I have faith in you." It was just then that his father arrived with Tommy; they made a charming family picture and Ryan could not but help to be pleased at the warmth and love he felt from his father and the woman who had once tried so hard to make his life miserable.

That night he spent getting to know his brother more, and in the morning Ryan decided to go off and explore Newport.

"Be careful out there." His father had looked concerned when Ryan announced his intensions of wandering through the city.

"Why—is there a sudden crime wave I don't know about?" He thought his father was joking, but there was a worried frown on Frank's handsome face that made him think otherwise. It was a look that Sandy Cohen had perfected through the years.

"No—it's just." He seemed hesitant to say what he wanted to say, but his fatherly worry won out: "It's just that Taylor is in town."

"Taylor." The words were muttered lowly by Ryan and a cold shiver went down his spine. "I haven't talked to her in two years."

"I talked to her a few days ago." Frank didn't like the blank, vaguely hurt look that had crept across Ryan's face. "It was completely accidental. Julie and I were on a date and we ran into her on the street.

"She good?"

"She said she was."

"I didn't realize she was back in America." Frank shrugged his shoulders; there was really no good reason either man would know of Taylor's whereabouts or her activities, because the only person Taylor kept in touch with that Ryan knew was Summer, and there was no good reason that Summer would tell Ryan anything about Taylor.

"I doubt you'll see her—maybe she's not even in Newport anymore."

"Yeah—maybe." Ryan forced a smile and tried to force the dread of seeing Taylor out of his heart. He said goodbye to his father and made his way downtown, determined to enjoy himself despite the spirit of his ex-girlfriend.

Taylor Townsend. In the past year he had thought of her often, and his thoughts of her were always mixed with regret. He had loved and lost her twice, and it was that second time that still chased after him. The first time had been ages ago, before they had gone off to college. That separation had been mutually agreed upon. It hadn't lasted long however, because the summer after freshman year Taylor had come to Berkeley to spend a couple of days with the Cohens and to see Summer, who was also visiting Berkeley. She and Ryan had instantly reconnected, and that short stay had turned into a long way. Taylor had ended up staying the entire summer in California, and when she had returned to Paris, she and Ryan were together and very much in love.

Summer and Taylor had, Seth would later tell Ryan, both come to the conclusion that Ryan and Taylor were together again and for always; they would probably get married almost as the same time as Summer and Seth would be married; Taylor certainly started off the new semester thinking about the story-book wedding that would be hers in a not-to-distant future. Ryan, he privately owned to himself then and afterwards, believed that that was the case as well.

As Ryan walked the streets of Newport, slowly coming to life, he could not but help remember his junior year, when it all went so wrong. He had spent a part of the summer with Taylor in France, and when he returned back to America for school he was all but engaged to her. It wasn't an actual official engagement, but it was understood by both parties that she would return to America after the Sorbonne; they would move in with each other and get engaged once she was settled into her new life in California.

Taylor was very happy, Ryan remembered, but he had come back to Berkeley in an increasingly quiet panic. Marriage was a thing he had not really thought seriously about, except as a far off idea that would come later in life rather than sooner; how things were changing then! Here he was, only a college junior, practically engaged to a girl that lived in another continent. First the first time in a long time, he thought he was making a mistake.

"A cup of coffee." He had wondered an hour, absently, through stores and street corners, lost in the thoughts of the past. So far he had not seen Taylor or anyone who could tell him the whereabouts of Taylor; he felt a little more at ease about that, but still his mind was troubled about memories of the past. As he drank his coffee and tried to read the daily LA newspaper, his thoughts feel backwards into the past.

As that school year had started, he thought his life was getting away from him, so when the freshman Perdita Baxter decided to set her cap at him, she found Ryan Atwood open to her flirtations. They had met at a football game and Ryan, who felt a growing panic in being in such a fast moving and potentially life changing relationship, allowed and enjoyed the young brunette's attention.

The innocent flirtation at the football game morphed into something much more serious as Perdita's campaign intensified and as Taylor made Ryan feel more and more like an engaged man. As she talked more openly about the day they would be married, and what married life might be for them, Ryan found himself being swept away by the younger woman.

It all came ahead around Christmas time, when Perdita brought herself and a couple of bottles of wine over to Ryan's apartment. The coffee that he was drinking took on a deep bitterness as he relived—why did he torture himself with these memories—that night and the stark morning after. Perdita had become repulsive to him; all of her beauty, what he had seen in the moonlight, had become disgusting and rank in the morning. Sitting at the café table, so many days and nights after the fact, the feelings of shame and regret that had washed over him like a dark and painful wave were still fresh and devastating.

Perdita had not understood why Ryan shut her out afterwards, nor did his friends at school understand his next move, to tell Taylor the truth. Ryan had many painful memories in his young life; this one, for whatever reason, stuck out most clearly to him. Perhaps the wounds it inflicted were still fresh, still slowly trying to heal. He wasn't sure and as he sat at the table, he didn't want to remember, but like always, his brain forced him to that day.

It had rained all morning and it was foggy and cold; when he called Taylor he could hear the excitement and love in her voice. That precious gift to him, her love, was something that he had always counted on, and in his wildest notions he had no thought it was so fragile, so easy to shatter into a million pieces. But his words did shatter her love; until the day of his death he could never forget the love and happiness drain from her voice and turn into sorrow, pain and anger. Those few words that they said to one another were the last words they had expressed; she would not, had not forgiven him, and the few phone calls he placed to her after the fact went unreturned.

Ryan wasn't sure how long he sat there in that café; probably it was no longer than an hour, but it had felt like an eternity to him. He suddenly felt cold and lifeless; he was tired and wanted to go home. The coffee was left unfinished and cold and when he went outside, the sun seemed colder, distant.

It was a mistake to come here, he told himself. He would go back to Frank's and not leave the condo until it was time for him to go back to Los Angeles.

Ryan turned away from the café and made his way two block; he was only another minute or two from his car when he stopped dead in his tracks. Like a creature from a horror movie, Taylor had appeared, on the other side of the street, like a ghoul sent from Hell to torture him. At first he hoped she hadn't seen him, but she had.

The young woman's face was frozen in panic and anguish. Ryan had no doubt he appeared the same way to her. He had always hoped to see her again, to talk to her and tell her how sorry he was for the past. Now he had his chance but yet his feet would not move. Ryan figured that at any moment she would run away, but to his shock and immediate horror she steeled up her back and crossed the street towards him.

Taylor didn't say a word at first, and Ryan hoped for a moment that this was all a crazy dream, that he could wake up and see her and not be afraid, but it was not a dream as Taylor forced a smile to her face, and said "Hello."


	2. Part II

**Hamlet:**

I did love you once.

**OPHELIA****:**

Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so

"Hello Ryan." She tried to sound cheerful but Ryan, even after two years of separation, could tell that she was feeling anything but cheerful.

"Hey—I heard you were in town."

"Yeah—I wanted to see my mom." They stood awkwardly for a moment because Ryan realized the right thing to do was to ask how her mother was. She smiled—maybe a little less forced this time—and said she was fine.

"Good—good." They again stood like two mutes and Ryan was thinking she would just walk away when she surprised him again by asking him if he wanted to get a cup of coffee.

"Sure." They walked back to the café and tried to engage in small talk. How long was Ryan in town for? A couple of day; what was Taylor doing back in America? She was going to get her advanced degree in Linguistics at Loyola. "So you're moving back to LA?"  
"Yeah—I'm going up there next week." He held the door open for her and she thanked him; as she passed the familiar scent of her perfume and shampoo invited his senses and stroked his old desires. She looked as lovely as ever, maybe a bit heavier then he remembered but it made no difference for Ryan. What surprised him most in fact was how expressive she was and by the fluidity of her movements. For the past two years she had been frozen in his mind, almost like a doll, to which Ryan could create his own movements and expressions for her; today, however, as she sat down next to him at the café table, he realized how vivacious she had once been. "I hear that you're up in LA to?"

"Yeah—about a month now. I heard you talked to Frank."

"I did—but that's not who I heard it from." She paused as the waitress came by to take their order. "I actually heard it from Summer." That surprised Ryan.

"I didn't think Summer talked to you about me." Ryan hadn't meant to make his voice sound so hopeful.

"She doesn't—not really." Taylor paused for a moment, almost as if she was unsure of how much to say.

"What?"

"Well—she only told me so as to warn me—in case I ran into you."

"Funny that we ran into each other here."

"Yeah—life is funny." She didn't seem so amused though.

"I haven't really been Summer's favorite person lately." Taylor stiffened slightly; Ryan could see she was starting to feel uncomfortable, but Ryan knew he had something he wanted to tell her.

"Ryan"

"No—let me just say how sorry I am" Taylor shook her head and rose, as if she were going to leave.

"No Ryan—let's not talk about the past." She looked down upon him and tried to smile, but no expressed came forth except one of sadness and anger.

"I just wa"

"Please Ryan—let's forget about all that." She sat back down again and thanked the waitress who had brought over their coffees. "It's in the past and we have our own lives now."

"Don't you think about me?"

"Ryan."

"I think about you." She shook her head ruefully and looked at him, a mixture of sorrow and frustration in her hazel orbs.

"You know I thought about a million things I would say to you if I ever saw you again."

"And I'd deserve everyone."

"But after awhile I just forgot about it; it wasn't worth it to me anymore."

"I know I hurt you but I really"

That anger behind her eyes finally flared out: "Damn right you hurt me Ryan; do you have any idea how heartbroken I was."

"I wanted to apologize to you—I tried to apologize to you."

"It was too late; I only wanted you to love me."

"I did love you—I do." He hadn't meant to tell her that, but it was the truth. Ever since she had left his life he love and passion for her had only grown. "I was such an idiot Taylor."

"Forget about it—it's over."

"But don't you think—don't you think we can try again." She shook her head; "I can make it up to you, make up the past to you."

"You can't Ryan." He tried to reach for her hand but she pulled it away. It was only then he noticed what he should have noticed from the beginning: the small, yet tasteful diamond engagement ring on her finger.

"Taylor." She saw the blank look on his face and felt sorry for him, so damn sorry for him.

"Yeah—I'm engaged."

"I." He didn't know what to say and told her so.

"You can tell me you're happy for me."

"I am happy for you Taylor—so happy." His voice sounded so dead and lifeless to him; was it really Ryan Atwood speaking those words?

"You don't sound happy for me." She looked at him for a moment, her eyes trying to search his soul. "I'm sorry you're hurting Ryan but I love him."

"Who is he?"

"Does it matter?"

"Does he treat you good?"

"Of course he does—Marius is a very good man."

"Marius." He tried to imagine this Marius but he could not; it was too painful for him to do so. "I'm glad he's a good man."

"Yes." They sat in silence; what else was there to say?

"Are you going to be married soon?" She didn't want to answer him at first, he could see that, but he could not help himself. God how badly it hurt but the truth, no matter how badly it hurt him, had to be known. "Is it soon?"

"Next year Ryan—next year. He's going to become an American citizen."

"I'm happy for you." He knew he sounded so lame. Taylor's phone rang just then; it was her mother. "Everything okay?"

"Just wanted to see where I was; I only came downtown to run an errand."

"I won't keep you." Ryan got out of his chair but Taylor waved him back down.

"Please Ryan—we don't have to act like strangers or anything—I don't hate you."

"No? I thought you did."

"I did hate you, but not anymore."

"Do you think we could ever be friends again?" She shrugged her shoulders.

"What would be the point? We both live busy lives."

"I know—but we shared something once; I don't know--I hate the thought of not having you in my life."

"I haven't been in your life for two years; I think you're doing okay."

"I'm not Taylor—not really."

"No girlfriend?" He shook his head; no there hadn't been anyone serious since her. "I can't believe that."

"I haven't met anyone that I really like."

"I'm sorry for that." She did seem very sorry; she looked into her coffee cup and seemed surprised that there wasn't anything left for her to drink. "I just don't know about being friends Ryan. So much has happened."

"I just miss you." She said nothing and before Ryan could stop himself, he asked her if she missed him. Taylor slowly shook her head no, she did not. "Oh."

"Don't you understand that you broke my heart Ryan? I was a mess for such a long time afterwards; I think a piece of me died that day."

"I can't forget that day."

"I can't either—god I have tried to forget it but I can't."

"I want to make it up to you—or at least try to."

"You can't Ryan—don't you see that? I was willing to forgive almost anything but not that—never that."

"So it's hopeless?" She shrugged her shoulder.

"Yeah—right now I think we should just live our own lives."

"But maybe—someday?" She smiled at this earnestness, at the deepness of his feelings for her.

"Maybe—but I don't know if someday will ever come." When he said nothing she continued on: "We did love each other but I don't think we were meant to be together forever. We were there for one another when we needed each other but after awhile we served our respective purposes. I shouldn't have expected to marry you, and especially not so young. We both made mistakes Ryan and now I think what happened happened for the best."

"Because you found the guy you truly love." She nodded her head. "Do you love him more than you loved me?"

She laughed again, but not in amusement. "I knew you were going to ask me that question." Taylor looked deeply into his eyes for a moment and then sighed; she seemed tired now and would tell him whatever he wanted to know. "Do you want my honest answer?"

"Yes. Of course."

"I do love him more than you—do you know why? Because I believe he would never cheat on me or freak out about getting married and not at least tell me about it."

"I'm not good with sharing things Taylor—you know that."

"Yes—I should have known better." She was angry now and her patience was thin. "I'm telling you as a woman you can't treat people like that Ryan—you have to share things, how you're feeling." She shook her head in disappointment. "Don't you see that you blew it? You had me, I could have made you so happy but you threw it away. And for what?"

"I don't know—I was confused."

"I wish you had been honest with me, open."

"Would it have made a difference?"

"Of course it would have—I would have listened to you, helped you through whatever you were going through."

"Then there's hope for us."

"What?"

"You loved me enough to wish it had turned out different."

"You're a funny man Ryan Atwood."

"Why?"

"Because you don't give up—how can I make it clear to you that I love another man and I'm going to marry him?"

"I believe you."

"So what are you looking for? Hope? Closure?"

"Maybe both."

"I don't know what to tell you."

"I did love you."

"You made me think so."

"Does that count for anything?"

"It makes it harder to say goodbye." She rose suddenly from the chair. "I really can't stay any longer; my mom will start to think I've run away with you."

"Does she like Marcus?"

"Marius—and yes. He cooks for her."

"Good for him."

"And for me too." She held out her hand but Ryan shook his head; if they weren't going to be strangers they at least needed to hug. "Take care of yourself Ryan."

"I will—maybe I'll see you in LA."

"I wouldn't count on it—LA is a big place." Her voice sounded small, sad yet defiant.

"Yeah—it is a big place."

"I'm really glad I ran into you."

"I'm really glad I ran into you too." They hugged again and she was out the door. Ryan watched her walk out into the sunlit street, the smell of her perfume clingingly stubbornly to his clothes.


End file.
